


Another Uselss Painting

by brieflybe



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:31:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflybe/pseuds/brieflybe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He examines Simon all over again; like it's more than just a sweet gesture or a weird sort of date, like maybe Simon has expectations for the quality of the work, or the depths of Kieren's perspective; like he's drawing for Simon, even though they both know that he is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Uselss Painting

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal gratitude to [asexualizing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Specialcookies/pseuds/asexualizing) for the beta, and just for generally existing.

He learns that Simon is capable of sitting motionless for very long periods of time. It's not that surprising, really – Simon's self-control is a thing to be envied, right up to the moment when he chooses to throw it all to hell. But it's nice. Unexpected – like any good thing that comes easily, and Kieren likes trying to create that strange neon color of Simon's eyes out of oil paint. He gets to make the occasional stupid comment and watch Simon's lips quirk upwards before he returns to his duty as her majesty's royal guard. He says: "How in the world did you manage to make your eyes look like that while the rest of us got stuck with this bloody yellow thing forever – ". He says: "If Jem was here right now, she would totally yell rude things into your ear to try and get you to crack up." He says: "I'm going to have to take a painting off the wall for this one, it's way too big. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice," and he's smiling. He says: "So I'm basically useless at the moment. How about a break?" and Simon is out of his seat in matter of seconds, closing the distance between them with a few easy steps. His hand is moving up to rest on Kieren's cheek as he kisses him, because it always does, and Kieren lets his eyes draw shut and thinks about how familiar it has become.

 

He learns that he's capable of drawing Simon from memory. Well, he already knew that, really. He's done it before. But Simon is currently sitting right there, in front of him, and Kieren, who's grateful for the open invitation to stare (which isn't a new thing as well) realizes that he doesn't actually has to look up from the Canvas in order to capture the crooked upturn of Simon's smile, the shape of his cheek bones. Maybe that's why asking Simon to model has never really occurred to him. Simon would come into Kieren's room and see a new portrait of himself on the wall, or lying next to the bed, and he would always seem surprised, like he doesn't actually get how Kieren does this; like he can't seem to comprehend when was he there – in Kieren's thoughts, on the tip of his fingers.

 

(After the third painting, the one Kieren drew out of coil, Simon asked: "Am I that interesting to draw?" and his smile was crooked, and his voice was soft. Simon's view of the world is so absolute that Kieren is still sometimes caught off guard when he can make him smile like that, when he does something that is absolutely the right thing to do. So Kieren replied: "Maybe I'm just that bored." Simon, who can't accept the possibility of anything being even remotely dull while he's around, leaned in, until his lips were inches from Kieren's ear, and said: "Bet I can help you with that." Which is a terrible line, and Kieren should have mocked him for it, should still be mocking him, really, but then Simon's hand was on the back of Kieren's head, fingers tugging slightly at his hair, just hard enough that he could actually feel it. He was whispering Kieren's name, kissing along Kieren's jaw, and then, just when Kieren was closing his eyes, he pulled away and clarified: "I meant with the painting. Maybe if I'll be present it'll be less – you know, boring." So Kieren calmly told him he was an idiot, and leaned in for another kiss. And now here they are). 

 

He examines Simon all over again; like it's more than just a sweet gesture or a weird sort of date, like maybe Simon has expectations for the quality of the work, or the depths of Kieren's perspective, like he's drawing for Simon, even though they both know that he is not. So he examines Simon all over again, even though he doesn't have too. The black circles beneath his eyes and the way his eyelids drop every once in a while tell Kieren that he hasn't been sleeping well. So does the way he sometimes forgets himself and slump backwards in his seat, or the way he grits his teeth, or grips his knee. Kieren knows that process: You walk innocently through the realms of your mind, and then you stumble, and then you remember – something, anything, whatever, and then you recoil, you pull back. And then you catch yourself. You force your muscles to relax. You breathe. Simon looks like a person too tired to fight off his mind. Kieren knows that, because on days like these, Amy's fridge will be filled with jars of Neurotriptyline. Simon will be easy to fight and hard to restrain, and Kieren won't let him near the pub, won't let him near Gary, or Zoey, or Pearl, or Steve. One time Gary passed them by with two PDS sufferers tied up in the back of his truck and Simon almost started chasing him by foot – he was so angry. He forgot who he was. So Kieren adds the black to the painting, because Simon likes authenticity, and wonders just how bad it is –the nightmares – when he isn't there to wake up alongside him with his own bad dreams. 

 

He learns that Simon has a scar that runs all the way across his back like a second spine. Actually, Kieren already knew about this one as well. They were at the bungalow, in Simon's room, and Kieren ran his fingers carefully along the dark lines of it and asked: "How –" and then stopped himself, because maybe that was intrusive, or rude. Because he probably should have asked for permission before he touched. Because this is not a Death Scar. It happened after Simon has risen. So it's not a scar at all, really. It's a fresh wound. It will always be a fresh wound (like the bullet hole in Simon's shoulder; like the scratches Gary's handcuffs left on his skin). Simon had said: "Norfolk is a great place to visit if you're looking to get flattering decorations on your skin; heard that if you go back as a non-compliant, the second one is for free." and Kieren can't help but wonder what Simon has been through over there. What he has done. Was he rabid, or has he managed to rebel against the machine already in his first days of new- found consciousness. He thought about Simon, desperately telling him about experimentations and lab rats and brutal, monstrous humans – well, he didn't want to think about that anymore. He was too afraid to ask. And then Simon's shoulders were shaking slightly beneath Kieren's fingers, and when Kieren took a step back, far enough to look into his eyes, they looked almost completely white. He seemed as if he was bracing himself for a blow. Everything Kieren was going to say got stuck in his throat.

 

So Kieren thinks about that while he's searching for the specific white of Simon's skin, for the specific blue on the inside of his lips. Simon has insisted on changing out of his shirt earlier, saying: "This jumper is probably as old as your little sister; you can't paint me wearing that." He put on the jumper Kieren had gotten for him instead, the one he doesn't wear that often because he's afraid it'll get ruined in Give Back Scheme. And Kieren realized that he remembers the rope ladder on Simon's back by heart. Just like he remembers the red stains left on Jem's hair after the dye got washed off, just like he remembers Rick's stitches (the ones he got after coming back to life; the ones he got after that horrible football game in the city), just like he remembers his father's crying, Lisa's scream. It's all worth remembering, worth commemorating, and maybe Kieren is drawing too much, because there is no more space on the walls of his room, because sometimes his hand starts to shake and he can't make it stop, because there are five Amys on canvas and paper and not even one here, in the flesh. But he thinks that stopping will probably be worse.

 

He learns that Simon passes most of his time but staring right back at Kieren. He doesn't really get it, but it is what it is, and the outcome of Kieren spending the afternoon painting a slightly uncomfortable, tired Simon is that they can stare at each other like idiots for as long as they'd please. So Kieren draws Simon's hands on paper and wishes that he could feel them better, more than this almost feeling, these phantom pain, this I-could-have-imagined-it, probably. Simon can't go through a conversation without getting in Kieren's private space, and yet he has no solution for that.

 

He's learning – well, he's not, right now. He's feeling dizzy, actually, and not in a good way. He's shaking his head, lets himself lean forward. His hand slips and there is a blue line along Simon's left eye and forehead. Later, Jem will see this and will call Simon 'Scar' for three whole days. Simon quickly gets up from his sit and stops next to Kieren, takes Kieren's hand in his, the one that's not holding the paint brush. It's clenched into a fist, and Simon takes it apart with his fingers. His eyebrows are raised, and he asks: "Hey. What's going on?" Kieren shrugs, because it's probably nothing, and he doesn't feel like arguing about the merits versus the terrible dangers of going to a check-up at the Doctor. Simon is looking worried, still, and Kieren thinks that if it is something – because, you know, just his luck – at least he won't be alone for this one. Simon's fingers tightens around his, and part of Kieren still expects body heat, but this is good, too. This is better.

 

He's left with another painting of Simon, at the end of the day (and a faulty one at that) and with a real live Simon who throws himself on Kieren's bed and stares like a freak at Kieren's very irrelevant ceiling, while the ensemble of Kieren's useless paintings are staring back . Kieren moves to sit next to him. He has paint on his fingers and when he wraps them around Simon's wrist some of it catches to his skin, a sharp contrast of colour on pale skin and old track marks. He tells Simon the painting came out well, and Simon says that he can see that. He's smiling – at Kieren, at the bloody ceiling, and Kieren – who's scared of damaging the people he paints, sometimes, who chooses them as subjects over and over again like a broken record from a place that feels like a deep bruise in his chest, and always fears that it might be too much, is smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr right [here!](http://briefly-be.tumblr.com/)


End file.
